I have some answers for this, answers that range from the plausible to the barely imaginable. I'll share them with you:
- I am a perfectionist. I have a highly sophisticated mind that prides itself on being able to arrive at, if not formulate, the perfect solution for every problem. Since I believe that I can achieve perfection, then I am not willing to settle for imperfect solutions, even if I may concede that they have merit. I may sometimes be forced or fooled into settling for them (after all, the Greeks showed us quite clearly that even goddesses are not infallible), but I am always courageous enough to prioritize my search for perfection before shallow notions of saving face and courting convenience.
- I am a brilliant logician. Because I can argue any point with hypnotizing convincingness, all hell breaks loose when I am forced to argue with myself. It's sort of like what happened in Ken Follet's The Third Twin, when two out of eight clones were about to have a go at each other, and Dr. Ferrami decided to take matters into her own hands because a fight like that could go on forever. Whew, that was a long analogy that I hope makes sense even to those who have not read the book. Also, because I am fair, I cannot give the victory to one side for arbitrary reasons. And if I do so, I am woman enough to admit such a mistake and attempt to rectify it by deliberating some more.
- I am egotistical. I think (and I am probably right in this) that I can excel in anything I set my mind to. Because of my complacence that I can succeed in a myriad of scenarios (just please do not expect me to do those traditional female duties - cooking, cleaning, planting, worshipping the men or even picking berries, for goodness' sake), I do not pressure myself to find just what is right for me but instead rely on my God-given ability to worm myself out of any situation I get myself into. Please note that 'worming out' was used in the most flattering of ways.
- I am a Covey drop-out. I have failed the course on beginning with the end in mind. Because I have not done enough research on what the end in mind is for me, as I am admittedly a horrible person to plan for, then I'm having a difficult time figuring out where I should go and what I should do. Lack of a benchmark, in simple terms.
- I am a biological sport. I have the genes of a willow.
- I am a Libran. I never put all my gold bars on just one plate.
- I was born in the Year of the Dog and am therefore barking mad.
* * *
Fickle as I can be, there are some things that I am sure I want. The latest one is a fully furnished cabin right beside the ocean.
I like being near the ocean. It find it calming to be in close proximity to this natural vastness that resembles me so much - no light can penetrate its deepest recesses, no one doubts its potential for overwhelming destruction, and nothing can stop it from hemming and hawing even if it's not really going anywhere.
Hey, if the ocean hems and haws, then I will not be ashamed to be doing exactly that.
* * *
I was in the Northern Philippines for the whole of last week with my family.
The drive to Vigan from Manila was around eleven hours. I like long drives. I understand why some people wouldn't, but long drives never really bothered me. I remember the bus ride to the retreat house, which was about a year ago. Ange and I spent the whole eight hours to Baguio talking and catching up and saying things that we weren't able to say during the schoolyear. The trip didn't feel like eight hours at all; it rather felt like we were carpoolmates again, being driven home after an eventful day at school.
[On a sidenote, this bus ride is memorable for another reason: on one of the stops, Di knelt on her chair, turned around, and bellowed her million-dollar question for the whole Tarlac to hear - "How is your Meteor Garden marathon going?" My goodness. And the bus was full of fellow Ateneans who had before then regarded me as a reputable person.]
This is not to say, however, that I need good company to make a long ride enjoyable. Even when there is no one to talk to or, more accurately, when I do not feel like talking to anyone, I like looking out of the window and chasing thoughts in my head. I do that all the time, probably to a fault. I remember the preparation for the Baguio retreat where we had to meditate on some Bible passages. Since I was at the height of my Buffy marathon (I had finished the Meteor Garden marathon and gone on to BtVS), I associated everything I read or heard to that show. For instance, there was this passage about restoring one's soul, and I immediately thought of Angel and then Spike. It rather horrified me actually, but I think it amused the group I shared this with.
* * *
Sometimes, chasing thoughts can get very tiring. I almost always start thinking about pleasant things, like what Filipino versions of the Anne of Green Gables characters would be like, but my thoughts stray to more serious matters, like how I think I'd like to die and what people would say about me when I'm gone. Everything is connected, see; there are links to everything from everything. And if you go on thinking aimlessly, it's inevitable, at least for me, to live through mini-cycles of thoughts and emotions that would otherwise be unconnected.
* * *
I like being in the province. I like seeing green fields and mountains instead of buildings and billboards, which is what I see when I step out of the house and look to the distance, and also when I get transported from place to place as I go about my life.
I liked Vigan a lot, especially the old houses of sturdy kamagong and wide rooms. I bought two pieces of furniture for my room when I was there - a wooden writing table and a wooden chest. The table is much like what I would imagine Jose Rizal used. It's not as tiny as that of Jane Austen's. Hers, which resembles the old hectagonal table that we used as a telephone stand, had just enough space for an intermediate pad of paper. I would never survive with a writing table like that. When I was in high school, ballpens and rulers kept falling off my desk, and my desk was already wider than I was. I think my writing table will suit me perfectly.
My wooden chest looks like it belongs under the sea - filled with gold coins and guarded by some skeleton of a pirate who sings about bottles of rum. Or it could belong to Harry Potter. On second thought, it'd suit Ron more, as it's antique. I wonder what I'm going to end up putting in that chest. Oh yeah. I could put my swords there.
* * *
Pagudpud was fantastic. We had a generous portion of the beach all to ourselves. We ate fresh lobster cooked in different ways. When we didn't feel like swimming, we either lay on hammocks or played Taboo. And when evening struck, we spread towels on the beach, laid on our backs, and stared at the stars that stared right back at us.
Such is the ideal life for me.
* * *
The only constellation I know is Orion. My brother tried pointing out the Bermuda Triangle to us but that didn't really count because we saw triangles all over the sky. He also tried showing us the Big Dipper, but while I saw some semblance of it then, I don't think I'd be able to call it out anytime soon. Not that it matters.
When I am in Manila, I seldom look at the sky anyway.
